


The Other Thing, Actually

by FestiveFerret



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic, First Kiss, Getting Together, Howard was a Cap Collector, I'm Sorry, M/M, Might be playing fast and loose with canon, Misunderstandings, No Goats in this One, No Smut, Not Much Plot Really, Pining, Should Have Been Working on Other Things, cold shoulder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 05:53:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8785639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: Things are going pretty well for Steve. He's moved into the tower and it's actually pretty nice on the inside, the team is friendly and fun to be around, and most importantly Tony seems to like having him there; he certainly likes being around Tony.Then suddenly Tony starts to ice him out and Steve can't understand why. Can he live with being part of the Avengers knowing that Tony hates him?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of silly get-together romance. It was in my head and apparently had to be let out before anything else could be written. Forgive me.
> 
> If you want plotty things or awkward smut I have other stories. With more goats. 
> 
> Thank you to deejaymil for the amazing cover art!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Steve's bike zipped across the New York state line and less than a minute later there was a startling vibration in his coat pocket. He pulled his bike into a gas station and took his phone out of his pocket, curious and surprised.

Steve had mostly managed to figure out smartphone technology – even though the StarkPhone Tony had pressed into his hand after shwarma had more features than any other he'd ever seen – but so far no one had tried to use it to get a hold of him.

After returning Loki to Asgard there was a period of time where all the Avengers had gone their own separate ways. Steve had been experiencing 21st century America first hand for the last few months and honestly, now that he was back in New York city he had assumed he would head to SHIELD's HQ there and see about getting some orders.

The text wasn't from SHIELD, however. It was from Tony Stark.

_If you don't want to stay with SHIELD, it's all yours._

He was confused at first until he realized there was an attached picture the phone was still downloading. It popped up as soon as it was done and Steve saw a series of blueprints. He flicked through them. They were for Stark Tower, redone, but the one that interested him most was the floor plan labeled with a little shield with a star in the middle.

Tony had built him an apartment at Stark Tower.

He'd built them all apartments. And training rooms, and movie rooms and what looked like a pool. It was their own little HQ and Tony had just gone for it on the off chance anyone was in.

Steve liked the billionaire even though he confused the heck out of him. Steve had tried to apologize at least four times for the things he said on the Helicarrier, but Tony had just gone, “psshhhh,” and waved a hand in his face until he stopped, and eventually Steve had given up. There didn't seem to be any hard feelings on Tony's end – they talked and joked and the engineer was as likely to throw his arm around his shoulders and tease him as he was with any of the others in the group.

If he was honest with himself, he actually liked it a little too much. There was a new kind of thrill in his stomach every time Tony smiled his way or poked him affectionately in the side.

The idea of living at the tower was intriguing, Steve had to admit. He wasn't exactly relishing going back to SHIELD and having them set him up in a dingy, faux-40's apartment somewhere. The team had all shared something after the Chitauri; he felt close to them. He also couldn't pretend it wouldn't be nice to be around Tony more, regardless of how silly and futile his crush was.

He decided he'd at least check it out, maybe stay there for a little while and see if anyone else was there. If it got weird or awkward he could bail to DC, where Fury was for the next little while, and get some work with SHIELD. As it was, despite still technically being an active SHIELD operative, he hadn't heard from them since before Loki's departure. It seemed that, for now at least, they were giving him his space.

He texted back, " _On my way_ ” which he felt was vague enough to leave his options open while still not springing his appearance on his soon-to-be host.

When he arrived JARVIS directed him to a garage space for his bike and then up the elevators to his floor, Tony nowhere to be seen. He tossed his bag by the door while he looked around. The apartment was spacious without feeling empty, and personalized without feeling personal. Like staying at a B&B over a hotel. The more he looked, though, the more he could see Tony had added touches that were purely Steve.

There was a basket of art supplies inside a cabinet by the couch and the framed photograph on the living room wall was of Brooklyn. A bowl in the kitchen contained oranges, which Steve had mentioned once were his favourite fruit, and the rooms were a few degrees warmer than the rest of the tower. Steve wasn't sure if that was actually on purpose or not, but he'd mentioned to Tony and Bruce in passing once that even though he didn't really feel cold in any dangerous way anymore, he still hated how chilly his room on the Helicarrier had been.

After spending some time looking around he decided to go on a hunt through the tower to see who else was there. He knew he could just ask JARVIS, but this way he'd get to see more of the place as well.

He found a library, a gym so amazing it made his mouth water, two large kitchens, and Bruce, in his lab.

Bruce startled a little at his appearance, then smiled tentatively. “Steve, nice to see you.” He stood to shake his hand. “Tony convince you to move in?”

Steve smiled back. “Didn't take much convincing, really. It was this or SHIELD quarters.”

Bruce chuckled a little and turned back to his work.

“So, uhh...” Steve tried to find a casual way to bring it up. ”Is Tony around? I just wanted to thank him for the invite.”

“Oh, sorry.” Bruce's eyebrows creased. “I'm surprised he didn't tell you, he's in California for a few days.”

Steve worked desperately to keep the disappointment off his face. If he was brutally honest with himself, half his reasons for agreeing to come to the tower at all were various versions of “getting to see Tony again” and it hadn't occurred to him that with a company to run, and SHIELD contracts, and dating Pepper, he might not even be around that much.

In the end it was three days before Tony finally showed up.

Steve had gotten used to spending time with his teammates by then. Clint and Natasha were splitting their time with SHIELD HQ, but it seemed they were here more often than not. Thor wasn't around much, but he made a point of dropping in once in a while, and Bruce had actually come to be quite friendly with Steve.

Steve had to admit that the tower was a lot less ugly from the inside and Tony had managed to capture a cozy quality that put that Steve at ease right away.

After three days of neither hide nor hair of the engineer Steve actually heard Tony before he saw him, his voice carrying down the hall, continuing a monologue with JARVIS that he'd clearly started in the elevator.

“- repulsors. I mean it would really be so much more efficient to shoot up 83 stories at the same speed as my flight suit, don't you think?” He didn't give JARVIS time to respond. “I mean, yes, let's be fair it would probably turn the riders into little Avengers pancakes, but think of all the time you'd save! Maybe I could do something with padding, or – Steve!” Steve shot out of his chair when Tony turned the corner into the lounge and saw him. “It's everyone's favourite ice cream sandwich! Glad you made it.” He clapped Steve on the shoulder and made a beeline for the bar. “I'm just saying: repulsors.”

“Yes, Tony, 'cause the best way to start the morning is with a Mach 2 elevator ride down to breakfast.” Steve raised his eyebrows sarcastically and Tony grinned back.

“So what have you guys been up to in my absence? Mourning? Crying? Weeping? I bet there was weeping. Was it Barton?”

Clint chose that moment to saunter into the room. “Yeah right, Stark, more like celebrating.”

“Ah, you're still here. Didn't I kick you out?”

Clint scoffed and stole Tony's drink, leaning back on a stool, his feet on the bar. “Pfft, like that would ever stick. You've got Netflix, man.”

Tony just sighed and grabbed another glass, raising an eyebrow inquiringly at Steve, who shook his head, before pouring another drink. Glass in hand he rounded the bar, heading over to the couch where Steve now sat. As he walked by Clint's stool he hooked a foot around one of the two legs he was balanced on and gave it a tug. Clint's arms pinwheeled as he steadied himself, but he managed not to fall, glaring at Tony's back as the engineer collapsed on the couch next to Steve.

Steve thrilled a little at Tony's closeness. He could smell airplane and limo and scotch, but also the perpetual air of motor grease Tony seemed to carry around with him no matter what. He resisted the urge to lean in, trying to stay perfectly still, but in a casual sort of way. It was excruciating.

“Speaking of celebrating,” Tony started up again, clearly unaware of Steve's internal struggles, “we should have a party. I feel like I've been in investor meetings for six weeks straight. I need to relax a little.”

Clint just shrugged. “I like a party.”

Tony turned to Steve questioningly – clearly he was supposed to voice an opinion. “Uhh, sure, why not?”

“Great! JARVIS?”

“Initiating Operation Boogie Bananas,” JARVIS' dry, British voice intoned.

Steve raised an eyebrow at Tony. “Really?”

Tony grinned. “I just like making him say things like that in his silly accent.”

Steve couldn't help but grin back, though he quickly schooled his face into a more controlled smirk when he caught Clint giving him an odd look out of the corner of his eye.

“Alrighty, gotta go check on the kids, who knows what they get up to when I'm not here. Party tonight. See you later, Cap.” He patted Steve's knee and leapt up off the couch. “Fuck you, Barton.” He gave Clint a flirty little wave.

“Love ya too, Stark,” Clint called, flipping his feet back up on the bar again.

The party wasn't as uncomfortable, or overwhelming, as Steve expected. With what he knew of Tony Stark he was expecting the entire tower to be full of people and loud music. The music was loud, but it wasn't nearly as many people as he thought and they all gathered easily in the lounge, some guests spilling out onto the balcony to enjoy their drinks in the orange glow from the setting sun.

Jane and Thor managed to show up and brought Jane's intern, Darcy. Steve found her surprisingly fun and they ended up getting sucked into conversation. Darcy was telling him an outrageous story about an argument she'd gotten into with her academic advisor and as Steve laughed he glanced up and happened to notice Tony standing across the room.

Tony was standing next to Pepper who was talking animatedly to him and Rhodey. He had a glass of wine held loosely between his hands, fiddling with the base. He was turned towards Pepper, but his eyes were glued on Steve.

His face was surprisingly open, his eyes filled with something Steve couldn't quite label. When Steve first glanced up and caught his eye Tony looked away quickly, down to his drink, but Steve kept watching and a second later Tony tipped his head up again and their eyes locked.

It felt like they were staring at each other for hours, but it was probably really only a few seconds. Steve tipped his head slightly, his eyebrows furrowing, wondering what had Tony so fixated on him. Then Pepper must have said something that needed Tony's attention and he snapped away, back to her, the moment broken.

Steve wasn't sure what had just happened, but he felt a flush working its way up his neck. Tony was so manic and extreme in his multi-tasking that being the sole focus of his attention – even from across the room – was a bit dazzling. He had a bit of difficulty sliding back into Darcy's story, not realizing how much he had missed, but he nodded and smiled and she didn't seem to notice.

Steve ate sliders and had a few drinks (despite not feeling a thing) and before he knew it, it was winding down and people were heading home. He said goodbye to Maria Hill and picked his way through the party detritus towards Clint and Natasha. He didn't make it to them though because he glanced up and saw Tony outside on the balcony.

Steve pushed through the sliding doors and stepped outside. The night was warm, though the wind was wild this high up. Tony stood, tipped forward so his arms rested on the railing, looking out over the city, lost in thought. He hadn't heard Steve come out and he startled a little when the super-soldier sidled up next to him.

“Great party, Tony.” He let some warmth seep into his voice, remembering Tony's delight in seeing him earlier in the day, how nice his hand felt on his knee.

“Uh, thanks,” Tony answered shortly, keeping his eyes fixed on the horizon. His hands were clenched hard on the railing, so hard his knuckles were white, but his shoulders were relaxed, his posture casual. Suddenly Steve felt awkward and unsure. Tony had seemed so friendly earlier, but this Tony was distinctly different.

“Did you meet Darcy?” Steve tried, the silence much too uncomfortable to bear.

“Yup. She's great. I've actually met her already.” His voice was flat and without inflection, he wouldn't smile and he wouldn't look at Steve.

Steve started to fidget nervously and when no more conversation was forthcoming, finally just gave up. Maybe Tony was drunk and depressed. He knew he drank too much. Maybe he'd had a fight with Pepper at some point. He just didn't understand how he'd gone from staring across the room at him to flat out ignoring him. “Ok, well... goodnight.”

“Night.”

He waited another moment, still hopeful, but when he got nothing from Tony he pushed off the railing and climbed back inside. All the guests were gone and only the tower inhabitants remained, collapsed on couches, laughing and joking. Steve slipped out of the lounge before anyone noticed him and made his way back to his apartment.

It had been a fun night, up until the end. He was worried about Tony but all he could do was wait until tomorrow and hope it got better.

But it didn't get better. If anything it got worse.

Tony spent more time at the tower than Steve expected, but when he was there Steve hardly saw him. It seemed that he was always in his workshop with the door locked, or deep in work with Bruce, or running in the gym with his headphones on.

That first day seemed like a dream now. Tony treated Steve with cool indifference and the rest of the team with friendly comradery.

It hadn't gotten so bad yet that Tony was actually darting out of rooms, but it was like every time Steve showed up Tony's personality disappeared. He was open and joking and friendly with everyone else, but as soon as he interacted with Steve directly his voice became blank and expressionless, he answered questions simply and plainly and avoided all other conversation.

Steve had to admit – it was starting to get to him. He couldn't exactly say Tony was being rude, or cruel or anything else big enough to mention, just _vacant._ And every time he tried to think of a way to bring it up, it would only come out petulantly as “why do you like everyone else better than me?” and that just wasn't a fair thing to ask.

It was clear that Tony didn't like him and was being surprisingly polite about it. The best thing he could do was let it be and try to be as nice as possible. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, Tony would start to like him for real.

It didn't help that his libido didn't seem to get the message about Tony not liking him. His attraction to the other man was way past embarrassing and starting to verge on dangerously distracting. They'd only had a few minor skirmishes to deal with in the months since he'd moved in, but seeing Tony zipping around in his armour did things to Steve that made him flush scarlet under his cowl.

He even caught himself hovering in doorways a few times, watching Tony relaxed and joking with Bruce or Clint and wishing painfully that it were him there instead. If that wasn't beyond creepy, he didn't know what was. Every time he picked up his new sketchbook all he wanted to sketch was Tony so he would carefully set it back down again, pages still blank and untouched.

And maybe it was all his fault. Maybe Tony had seen the lust in his eyes and this was his way of letting Steve down easy without ever having to talk about it. Make it clear that he respects him as a teammate – no more, no less.

If only he could tell Tony that he'd give up on ever having a chance at something more if they could just go back to being the friends he thought they once were.

Surprisingly everything was fine between them on the battlefield. Iron Man treated Captain America the same way as he did everyone else – joking and nagging on the comms. They fought exceptionally well together and despite his discomfort, Steve usually paired himself with Tony during battles. Tony rarely listened to orders, but the choices he did make always meshed well with Steve's battle plan. Steve found himself getting Tony riled up on purpose during missions just to get to hear his voice without the awful deadness he would face at home.

This dragged on painfully over the next few weeks until Steve found it so disheartening to see Tony shut down around him that he started avoiding him himself. If being away from him was something Tony wanted, Steve would give it to him and at least it would save him the agony of seeing the light go out of Tony's eyes whenever he settled his gaze on Steve.

An unexpected downside to staying clear of his fellow Avengers was that his vivid imagination now had free reign to torture him. When he was running into Tony daily in the communal parts of the tower, his flat voice and disinterest in Steve was like a bucket of ice water every time. It kept his fantasies at bay and his libido under control.

Once he started actively avoiding Tony, however, – going to the gym late at night, eating in his rooms and leaving the tower whenever possible – his brain starting building up the Tony of his imagination instead. This Tony wanted him back, this Tony's eyes got brighter when he entered a room, this Tony laughed and played and loved him like he wanted.

This Tony wanted to grab him, kiss his lips until they were pink and sore, touch him all over. This Tony would let Steve touch him back without flinching, let him slide his hands down his body and play with the hard edges of the arc reactor. This Tony would get hard for him, rub his erection against Steve's thigh and press their bodies together....

Steve was shocked out of his fantasy by the ringing of his phone. He pulled his hand away from where it had been absentmindedly stroking himself through the soft fabric of his sweatpants and blushed furiously, though there was no one there to be embarrassed about.

By the time he had pulled himself back to reality and found his phone (in the pocket of his jacket, hanging by the door) it had gone to voicemail and a moment later it pinged to let him know he had a message from one Pepper Potts.

Pepper made Steve feel terrified, impressed and jealous in equal measure. Terrified and impressed at the way she ran a multi-national, multi-billion dollar company with apparent ease, and jealous because she got to touch Tony in all the ways Steve wished to.

As the message flashed in front of him Steve had a brief shock of anxiety at the thought that she had discovered his less than appropriate feelings for her boyfriend and wanted to talk it out with him, but he shook the feeling off almost immediately as beyond silly. Even if somehow she had figured it out, which was next to impossible since he had told no one and Tony did such a good job of keeping it professional between them, Pepper was not the sort to call Steve up and tell him to stay away from her man.

He pressed play and Pepper's voice filled the room, sounding busy, but friendly. “Hi Steve, it's Pepper. Please give me a call back when you get the chance. Bye!” She didn't sound angry or distressed, but Steve figured it was best to call her back right away. He wasn't sure Pepper had ever called him directly and it was making him more than a little nervous not knowing what it was. Better to call her now and get it over with.

She answered the phone after one ring with “Hi Steve, how are you?” Caller ID would never fail to creep him out a little.

“Hi, Mi-Pepper. I'm fine. How are you?” She was adamant he stop calling her “Miss Potts”.

“Not bad. I'm glad you called, I was hoping you might have time to meet with me this afternoon? I have something I want to show you. I can send Happy to pick you around 2pm. Does that work?” She sounded a little rushed and he could hear voices murmuring in the background.

“Umm, sure, where are we meeting?”

“It's a Stark Industries warehouse just outside the city. Don't worry, Happy knows where to go. Just be ready at 2 and he'll get you there.”

“Okay. Is everything alright?” He wasn't really sure where this was headed.

“Of course, don't worry. This isn't Avengers stuff. It's more of a personal matter. I just don't have time to explain it on the phone. I'll see you this afternoon.”

“Um, okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Steve hung up feeling more unsettled than before he called. Why would Pepper need him for a “personal matter” at a Stark Industries building?

He spent the rest of the morning doing basically nothing, trying to convince himself that he wasn't obsessing over what the afternoon might bring. Finally, 2 o'clock arrived and Steve found Happy waiting by the front doors to the Tower – double parked without a care.

They zoomed out of the city in silence. When they arrived Pepper was already waiting outside the large storage facility, talking animatedly on her phone and pacing back and forth in impressively high stilettos. As soon as she saw Steve she hung up the phone and walked over to him, all smiles.

“Steve! How nice to see you!”

“Hi Pepper, nice to see you too.” She put her hand gently on his shoulder, clearly reacting to how tense he seemed.

“Sorry I couldn't explain this in person,” she started, leading the way into the facility, “It's a bit odd, really. After you, um, after your plane went down there was a little difficulty with what to do with your things,” she continued gently. “They didn't have a confirmed death certificate and you had no will or next of kin. The army felt you were government property, but Howard Stark got there first.”

Okay, that was weird. “What?”

“Howard cleared out your stuff before the army could get their hands on it. He claimed that you had given him your things to look after while on your mission and Peggy Carter backed up that claim. There was some muss and fuss and a lawsuit and ultimately it wasn't resolved. The items Howard took stayed in storage and when he died there had been enough turnover of the other side's legal teams that it fell off everyone's radar. Tony inherited everything and had the storage container moved here. On top of the stuff Howard took of yours there's a bunch of other stuff he collected at the time. Newspaper clippings, posters, memorabilia, I understand he was quite the Captain America fan!”

Pepper swiped her badge and the door unlocked, she led him down a few twisty hallways to a large door.

“As soon as you were discovered and it became clear you were alive, Tony let me know about your stuff in storage, but with all the craziness and the alien invasion it was forgotten again. I was just reviewing some old emails and it popped up again. I figured I'd better get on it right away, or it wouldn't happen at all.”

Pepper swiped her card again and the door opened into a storage room. Most of the stuff was in boxes, but Steve saw a few things that sent a flutter of nostalgia through his stomach. His parents' furniture that he'd put in storage before joining the army, his first Captain America uniform, his first combat boots. Howard must have raided Bucky's aunt's basement to get some of this stuff...

Besides all his personal things there were stacks of posters, boxes of old newsreels and even mission reports in a huge, carefully labeled, filing cabinet. It was startlingly extensive.

“Um,” was all he seemed able to say for a long minute. “Shouldn't most of this be Tony's now? Half this stuff was never mine, it's just about me, it belonged to Howard, it belongs to Tony now.”

Pepper looked slightly embarrassed. “That I don't know about, you'll have to ask Tony. All I know is he gave me the key to this place over a year ago and asked me to hand it over to SHIELD for you. I'm so sorry it's taken so long.”

“Oh, that's okay Pepper. It's been seventy years, I really didn't think any of this stuff would still be around. It's...nice.” He wasn't sure if it was the right word to describe what he was feeling, but it seemed to be the right word for Pepper as she beamed at him and gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze.

“If you want to keep it all we can box it up and have it sent to the tower. If there's anything you don't want I know the Smithsonian has a Captain America exhibit and I'm sure they'd love to have anything you'd touched!” She gave a soft laugh. “There's no rush though. Take as long as you like, Steve. This room's been full so long, I'm not sure it's even on the building map anymore. If you can't make a decision now, don't worry about it. We just wanted to make sure you knew it was here.”

“Well, thanks, I guess. I appreciate you taking the time to bring me down here. And everyone taking such good care of all of this. Could you thank Tony for me?” he added carefully.

She gave him an odd look. “Sure, but you'll probably see him before I do. You live with him. At this rate I hardly see him once a week and he's my best friend!” She laughed again, but Steve was struck by something in the way she said “best friend”.

“Aren't you guys – I thought you were together. Dating?”

Pepper's smile was sweet, but a little sad. “No, not really. I mean we sort of tried. Half tried. You know, but it was never really serious. We like to pretend sometimes, but I'm not really what Tony needs and he's too...risky...for me to settle down with. I love him, don't get me wrong, I love him like crazy, but I think my life would be easier if he found someone stable to keep him from floating around like a balloon all the time, you know? I've been his string for forever, but really, I'd just like to see him happy with the right person.”

Steve felt his cheeks flush a bit at Pepper's outpouring. He was one of those people that others always seemed to feel comfortable spilling their feelings to, but it never ceased to embarrass him when they did. Pepper seemed unaffected, however, giving him a smile and another pat on the arm.

Steve glanced around, wanting to change the subject before he blurted out something about wanting to take care of Tony himself, when his eye was caught by a piece of yellow plastic. There on top of a pile of boxes near the door was a screwdriver. He wouldn't have noticed it except it had this shiny, modern, dust-free quality about it, in contrast to the rest of the vast room.

He turned to Pepper, who was poking at her phone and hadn't noticed his sudden distraction, and asked, “Does Tony know I'm here?”

“I texted him this morning to let him know I was finally bringing you over, but don't worry about that. I got all your security clearances and everything. He already signed off on releasing the stuff to you, there won't be any issues.” That hadn't been what was on his mind, but he just gave her a small smile and nodded. “Anyway, I'd better get back, just let Sylvia know if you need anything.” She waved vaguely towards the front of the building where they'd passed a woman in a security vest at the front desk.

Pepper made her goodbyes and slipped out of the room after handing him a key card that would get him back in. He immediately turned and picked up the tool and twisted it in his fingers. It had a streak of shiny grease on it and there was something so familiar about it...

He took another glance around the room. It had waited this long, it could wait a little longer.

If Happy was surprised to see him out so soon, he hid it well. Steve said, “Tower, please,” as he settled back into the seat. His mind was a churning sea of thoughts, but none of them tangible or fully-formed. Why had Tony gone to the storage room before him? Was there something here he wanted to take before Steve had access to his stuff? If so, why? And what?

Tony had had a difficult relationship with his father, maybe he had left something here and it wasn't until Tony found out Steve was coming to take it away that he realized he actually wanted it after all – or didn't want Steve to have it. Either way this was something concrete he could take to Tony, something they would _have_ to talk about. No evading, or avoiding, this gave them a chance for the real conversation that Steve craved so much.

So much more than was healthy, really.

The car ride took no time at all and Steve soon found himself standing in front of the “Avengers Only” entrance to the tower, watching Happy drive off down the street. Stepping into the elevator he asked JARVIS to take him to Tony and the elevator flew up, the light for Tony's workshop glowing.

He stepped through the doors into the shop.

Tony was wearing an old, grey t-shirt, faded beyond whatever band name it used to display and the rattiest jeans he owned. The shirt was a little too short from too many washings and the jeans, bought pre-Iron Man workouts, slung low and loose on his now-slimmer hips. Steve couldn't help but admire the strip of smooth, tanned skin peeking out between the fabrics. Tony's arm was deep in a pile of complicated looking machinery, pulling up the hem of his shirt with every movement.

JARVIS must have given Tony a heads up to his arrival as the other man didn't turn to acknowledge his presence, but waved a hand vaguely towards him and said, “Hey Cap, what's up,” in the flat, just-for-Steve voice that never failed to sharpen the constant dull ache in his heart.

Steve didn't say anything, just walked over and placed the screwdriver gently on the table next to Tony's work.

“Wow, hey! You found it!” Tony temporarily let his coolness slip in his excitement. “I've been looking for this for days, where was it? There's this one screw that just-” He drifted off in techno-babble, grabbing the screwdriver and immediately going to work on a new area of the construction in front of him.

Days? He lost it days ago? But that meant...that meant he'd been in the facility before he knew Steve was coming to clear it out. Why?

“It was in your father's storage,” Steve said, clearly, but without emotion.

Tony's whole body instantly tensed. His hand stilled and his knuckles went white, distress rolling off of him in waves.

Tony could have laughed it off, could have said, “oh yeah, I was looking for my dad's old notebook, thanks for finding it,” could have shrugged and said he had no idea how it got there of all places and Steve might have let this go. He would have written it off as “Just Tony”, gone back to the warehouse and started going through his old stuff.

But instead Tony froze and Steve snatched at it like a hungry dog over the last bone.

“Why? Why were you down there?” He asked, raising his voice a little and sliding conspicuously between Tony and the door when the shorter man's eyes flicked uncontrollably towards it – and freedom.

“I-I...uh...I go there. I look at your stuff. Like all the time.” Tony deflated as he spoke, dropping the screwdriver and tipping backwards onto the chair behind him. He put his face in his hands and scrubbed hard, rubbing grease and dirt into his already wild hair.

Steve was flabbergasted. “What? Why? You don't even like me.”

“Don't even-? What?” Tony's brown eyes tipped up to him in confusion, his hands still clenching and unclenching.

“You don't like me,” Steve repeated, less certainly. “You won't talk to me, you clam up when I enter the room. You're friends with everyone else and no matter how hard I try, you won't be friends with me. You don't like me, but you put up with me for the team.”

“Is that-? That's what you think. I don't like you.” Tony was staring at him like he'd grown another head, but the second head was spouting profound philosophy he was desperate to understand. There was a tense moment when Tony's eyes flicked back towards the door and Steve could see his mind rolling over all the ways he could get out of there without talking anymore. Honestly, he wouldn't put it past him to just stand up and walk out without saying another word, just avoiding this conversation flat-out until it went away for good.

He braced himself for the rejection – yet again – but it didn't come.

Tony let out a long breath and melted into the chair, his eyes dropping away from escape routes and into his lap where his fingers were twisted together. After a quiet moment, he started to talk.

“When I was a kid, my dad was still looking for you. My mom married him knowing he would be obsessed with finding that plane until it turned up or he died and she was right. He never found you. I grew up knowing all about you, hearing stories of the things you'd done. I'd watch the old news reels and then ask dad to tell me the 'real story'. Talking about you was one of the things he was rarely too busy to do with me. Probably because it had nothing to do with me; he liked hearing the stories himself.

“When dad died I went through his stuff and I found his collection. He always told me he had kept your things for 'when you got back' so the army wouldn't do something stupid with them, but I had no idea he had so much. He'd squirreled away everything he could when the plane went down and then kept collecting anything he got his hands on after that.

“At first I think I kind of hated you. I even had this twisted idea that he'd faked his death to go search for you again. I was jealous because I looked back at my entire relationship with my father and all he'd ever shared with me was Stark Industries, a propensity for alcoholism, you, and a shit-ton of disappointment.”

“Tony...” Steve said quietly, but the other man held up a finger, stopping Steve from saying more.

“I wanted to hate you, but I couldn't. Every time I went through that stuff I felt the same fascination that he'd had. The propaganda you, and the real you that he had known. I built you up in my head as this amazing idol of what was best in a person and I carried it around with me all the time. You were my comic book hero. I had your old prototype shield kicking around here for ages, caught Coulson trying to sneak off with it more than once.

“When I heard they had found you it was...it was the strangest thing in the world. I'd been carrying around _my Captain America_ for over forty years and now I was going to get to meet the real you? I was not really prepared.”

Tony paused and Steve took an aborted step towards him, speaking in a breathy rush. “I'm – I'm sorry, no one could live up to that. It must have- I must have been so...” he swallowed hard, “disappointing.”

Tony looked at him with a strange, twisted expression before letting out an uncomfortable chuckle. “Are you kidding? You were so much better.” His face shifted into something honest and open and a little bit broken and Steve felt his lungs clench tight in his chest. Tony's voice lowered and Steve leaned unconsciously towards him. “As soon as I met you, I saw it, what my dad had seen. You really were that good, but you were also real. You were all the things he said you were – kind and strong and virtuous, but also all these other _so human_ things I had never associated with you – funny and curious and occasionally a stubborn dick. I wanted to hate you, but I couldn't. So I tried to be your friend, but I couldn't do that either.”

“Why not?” Steve asked quietly. “It seemed like we were friends, and then suddenly...we weren't. It was like once I moved in you gave up on pretending to like me.”

Tony chucked tensely again, then sighed and leaned back on the couch and screwed his eyes shut. He took a deep breath before speaking again and Steve braced himself for whatever painful revelation Tony had come to that evening, so many months ago.

“Yeah, I gave up on pretending to be your friend that night at the party, you're right about that. It wasn't because I hated you though, quite the opposite, actually. I looked up and saw you laughing with Darcy and I realized how totally gone I was for you, how much I just wanted to follow you around all the time like a puppy. I was that sixteen-year-old again every time I saw you, just a fascinated kid in his basement, surrounded by mission reports and action figures. My father thought he was grooming me to take over the family business, but what he didn't know was, he spent my whole childhood grooming me to fall in love with Captain America one day.

“I knew if I kept getting close to you, hanging out with you, being friends with you, I wouldn't be able to hold back. I'd push it too far, push you too far and you'd leave and it was just too much. I couldn't handle fucking this up as badly as I knew I would, so I kept you at arm's length instead. Even I, who have no filter at all for what is appropriate behaviour, know it's fairly uncool to jump one of your teammates you only just met because, unbeknownst to them, you fell asleep on Captain America sheets until you were fourteen. And no need to tell me there's some messed up Freudian shit going on here, I know it.”

Tony paused and Steve realized his legs felt funny and he was pretty sure he was going to tip over any moment now. He backed into the work table, rocking the stuff on top of it loudly and sucked in a sharp breath. The sudden cessation of burning in his lungs made him realize how long he must have been holding it.

Tony looked up sharply and took in the shocked expression on Steve's face. He sprung to his feet and held out two hands placatingly. “See, this is exactly why I kept it to myself. All you were trying to do was return my screwdriver and I've gone and fucked everything up and I wish you'd stop looking at me like that and say something because if I _break Captain America_ I'm pretty sure SHIELD has a 'you break it, you buy it' rule, and despite being one of the richest men in America I'm not sure I could afford to replace you. Steve?”

“What?” was all Steve managed to say and it came out as more of a squeak than an actual word.

“Fuck,” Tony said flatly. “Look, forget it, just- just wipe the last five minutes. I'm too fucking tired to have self-control right now. Thank you, Captain Rogers, for the return of my screwdriver. Have a good night, I bid you adieu.” Tony bowed exaggeratedly and spun on his heel to march off into the depths of his workshop, his face slipping back into his cool mask of indifference, but Steve grabbed his arm before he could go and held it painfully tight.

“Wait.” Tony stopped and turned slowly back to Steve, quiet, still, careful. It took Steve a long moment to process what he had heard. What he _thought_ he had heard was that Tony was in love with him, or at least with Captain America, and he had shut Steve out because he was worried he'd give it away. His brain went over that thought, over and over _Tony Stark is in love with Captain America_. “Did you say you're in love with me?”

There was brief struggle behind Tony's eyes before he spoke carefully. “Well, _technically_ that's not what I -” Steve's eyes narrowed and Tony sighed. “Yes. Totally, madly, stupidly gone in love with you. I can't stop thinking about you, Rhodey is so sick of hearing me whine about it, he's buggered off to Iraq to get away from me.”

“Me, or- or just Captain America?”

Tony looked genuinely stunned, like that was the last question he expected to hear. “What? What does that even mean?”

“Well, you said, you were in love with Captain America, the icon, when you were younger. Is it really me, Steve, or just the idea of the super-soldier Howard became obsessed with?”

Something flicked across Tony's face that looked like it could be faint hope and he took a small step back towards Steve. “You. Just you. I was crazy about the Cap as a kid, but none of that was anything to what the real you is like. You're just- you're-” He made a wild sort of gesture indicating all of Steve and hissed a frustrated noise out from between his teeth. “I'm sorry I tried to push you away. I should have thought about what it would seem like to you. I didn't mean to hurt you, really, all I was thinking about was myself. That's something I'm pretty good at, thinking about myself no matter how much it fucks everyone else over. I really am sorry. We can go back to being friends. I mean that. I might fuck up sometimes, and get drunk and try to kiss you, or something equally stupid, but I guess now that you know what I'm going through here, you can just dump a bucket of ice on me or something and I'll back off.”

Steve did some more staring. He knew he wasn't saying enough, but the new information just wouldn't seem to fit in his head. He had been lusting solidly after Tony for months and it turned out Tony had been lusting after him for even longer? It didn't make sense. His whole understanding of everything had been turned upside down in the last few hours. He couldn't seem to focus enough to form a cohesive sentence and his brain got stuck on the last thing bizarre thing Tony had said so he blurted out, “why would kissing me be stupid?”

Tony looked at him like he was a little worried about concussion and spoke slowly. “Well partially because I think being slapped by a super-soldier might break my jaw, and I need my jaw for things like eating, talking and getting utterly wasted in an attempt to kill whichever brain cells were responsible for this conversation. Partially because getting a sexual harassment talk from Coulson - or Fury for that matter - would probably put me in a coma. And lastly, because I think if I kissed you once I wouldn't be able to stop...” Tony trailed off as Steve's eyes flashed and his grip on Tony's arm became even tighter.

“Kiss me,” Steve ground out between clenched teeth.

“Um, what?” Tony's eyes widened and he leaned back a little away from Steve, fearfully.

“You. Idiot,” Steve finally managed to say. “I won't want you to stop. You're an idiot. Kiss. Me.” He pulled a little on Tony's arm, harder than he meant to and Tony stumbled forward, bracing himself with a hand on Steve's chest. Tony looked like there was a short-circuit in his brain somewhere and Steve couldn't wait anymore. He released his grip on Tony's arm and grabbed at his shoulders, pulling the other man's face towards him and pressing their lips together.

He expected Tony to stiffen up, he wouldn't have been surprised if the smaller man had pushed him away or even slapped him. What he did not expect was Tony wrapping his hand around Steve's neck in a death grip, scrabbling his other hand against his chest and ramming his tongue into Steve's mouth like he'd find another new element at the back of his throat.

Tony moaned and pulled the kiss deeper, grinding his hips against Steve's thigh and digging his nails into his skin. The lighting bolt of arousal that shot straight through Steve's core to his groin was too much to handle and he broke the kiss, gasping heavily. Tony immediately flew backwards, out of his arms.

“Jesus! See? I have zero self-control. Fuck.” He ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up again. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” Steve choked out. “For fucks sake Tony.” Tony startled at the harsh words coming out of Steve's, admittedly kiss-swollen and panting mouth, and the soldier couldn't help but laugh. Once he started he couldn't seem to stop and the concerned look on Tony's face deepened.

He started to back up, probably to call 9-1-1 on the insane, hysterical superhero in his house, but Steve reached out and stopped him, pulling him gently back into his arms to whisper in his ear. “I am not okay. I want you Tony Stark. I've wanted you since you came back from the dead and your first words were 'let's get shwarma'. I've wanted you every day since then and I want you now so badly that even after fighting Nazis and being frozen for seventy years and fighting off an alien invasion, the thing that is going to make me lose my mind for good is you walking out that door without letting me kiss you again.”

“Oh my god,” Tony squeaked out, his knees buckling a little. “So that wasn't like a 'thank you for giving me all my stuff back' kiss?” he asked, probably going for casually sarcastic, but ending up in the area of panicked and more than a little desperate.

“No, it really wasn't.” Steve said, leaning back so he could look Tony in the eye, “and neither is this...”

The second time their lips met Tony's reaction wasn't quite as out of control. He still reached up and pressed his hand to the back of Steve's neck, but more gently, his other hand sliding down to caress Steve's ribs. Steve kept his hands firmly on the other man's shoulders, afraid if he let go Tony would slip away again. Now that he felt his heat searing him from top to bottom, he didn't think he could ever be without it.

The intensity of the kiss ramped up once more, Tony's tongue flicking out to slide along Steve's lower lip until he was granted entrance. Steve felt Tony's hand slide lower, his fingers slipping into Steve's belt loop to pull their hips closer together. All of Steve's blood seemed to have drained south and he wasn't sure he could take much more without embarrassing himself. He gently pulled back, pressing their foreheads together and keeping his arms wrapped firmly around Tony's shoulders.

“It's, um, just pretty intense,” Steve admitted quietly, trying to catch his breath.

Tony smirked and ran a finger along Steve's perfectly sculpted jaw. “No kidding.” Tony twisted a little so Steve could feel their erections pressing together through their pants and smirked again at Steve's little gasp. The gasp turned into a moan and the moan turned into Tony's name. Spurred on by hearing his own name on Steve's lips, he responded by grinding up against the taller man again and drawing a line of hot kisses down his neck. Tony gently guided him backwards until Steve felt the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch. The jolt shocked him out of his lust-haze and a sudden thought made him freeze.

As soon as he went still Tony leaped backwards like he'd been burned. Dropping his hands to his sides and putting a few careful inches between them he looked up into Steve's eyes. “You okay?” he asked a little breathlessly. His hair was even wilder than before, his t-shirt was askew, lips swollen and wet, but it was the look in his eyes that sent a shiver of pleasure down Steve's spine. He'd never seen anyone look at him like that and he couldn't believe he had made _this Tony_ look and sound like that. It was beyond amazing.

“Yeah,” he managed to get out, “I'm fine, I just...” This was turning out to be harder to say than he thought. There was something weird about the about-turn in their relationship. Even though they'd both wanted more all along, the cool professionalism Tony had maintained over the last few months meant they barely knew each other at all, really. A few weeks of cautious friendship, three months of careful distance and the last two weeks of outright avoidance was rushing back to him now that he could no longer feel Tony pressed against him.

“Too fast? Too fast,” Tony said in a rush, rubbing his hands over his face again and stepping even further back. Steve whimpered a little at the distance, but Tony continued talking and didn't seem to hear him. “I'm rushing you, I just, remember what I said about self-control? Fuck-all of it right now. You're just...Jesus, look at you. Whaaaaat am I doing? We should, uhhh, take it slow? Right?”

“Well...I just thought, you know, we should talk. First,” Steve managed to gasp out. He wasn't 100% sure what second would be, though he had high hopes for what it might be and they definitely had to talk before _that_. He still had questions. And things he had to tell Tony.

“Okay. Right. Good. Talk. That's a good thing.” Tony carefully walked around the table, grabbing a chair and placing it just out of reach of Steve who tipped back onto the couch with a huff. For a long moment they just sat there, staring at each other, not sure where to start.

Steve finally broke the silence with a snort of laughter. It was just so absurd. All he wanted for three damn months was Tony to _talk_ to him and here he was with all of the man's attention and he had no idea what he wanted to say. This time his laughter was contagious and after the tension of their makeout session it was also a welcome catharsis. By the time he got himself under control Tony had tears streaming down his face and was slumped over in his chair.

“God, you're right I am an idiot,” he gasped out between giggles.

Steve flushed. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.”

“No, no, you're right. I'm such an idiot.” Tony turned an intense gaze on the super-soldier. “Cause it didn't matter if you wanted me back, we could have made this work, right? We could have been friends. You would have – you would have been okay with it. With me being totally off my rocker?”

“Yes, Tony.”

“See! If there's a way – and this is something you should know about me – if there's a way to fuck something up, I will find it.”

“You didn't fuck anything up, Tony. I'm here now.”

“Talk about taking the long way round, though.” He coughed nervously and looked at a seriously interesting spot on the wall behind Steve's head. “Sooo, uh, you really...you really want this?”

A smile teased the edges of Steve's mouth, but he kept his voice steady. “Depends on what you mean by 'this.'”

“You know, _this._ ” Tony gestured back and forth between them, still not able to meet Steve's eyes. “Us. Me. Us. Together. I uhhh-” Tony finally met Steve's eyes and saw the humor creasing the edges there. “And you're making fun of me. Great.”

Steve laughed and scooted forward on the couch to slip Tony's hand gently into his. “Maybe a little bit. But I do. I really do. Want _this_. All of it. You, us, together. Tony?” He waited until Tony looked up from their clasped hands and saw how serious he was. “I want you.”

“Well. Okay. Good. I mean, that's nice. Thanks for that,” he babbled, staring at their clasped hands.

Tony ran a thumb along the inside of Steve's wrist and the arousal that had somewhat abated during their laughing fit suddenly flared up again. Steve knew what he wanted to do, but it seemed like they should take some time, get to know each other. “Do you want to get dinner? I think we should. Do that. Uhh, first,” he blurted out, again forced to think about what second, third, and hopefully fourth might entail.

Tony looked at him for a moment and then smiled. “Yeah, Steve. I'd love to get dinner. Tonight?”

“Yes.” Steve was firm on that. He wasn't entirely sure he could make it until tonight, he certainly couldn't wait any longer. It had already been long enough.

“Okay, cool. Good. So, uuh, I actually do really have to finish this,” Tony gestured at the contraption behind him, “but, you know, feel free to hang out or...”

Steve's eyes slipped down again, following the edge of Tony's t-shirt. He thought about Tony, arms deep in his work, focused and determined, and his breath caught.

“Umm, actually I'm going to-” He gestured at the door. “You work. I'll see you tonight. Come get me when you're done and we'll get dinner.”

“Ok.” Tony looked a little uncertain, but Steve pressed another gentle kiss to his lips as he stood to go and Tony smiled. He picked up his returned screwdriver and dove back into work, his eyes following Steve out the door. As it shut behind him, Steve heard the loud bass of Tony' music flare up inside the workshop.

Steve went straight to his room and sat heavily on his bed, trying to sort out what had just happened. Tony _loved_ him. Had been in love with him for some time. Tony wanted to do _this._ This together thing. Whatever people called it these days. Dating.

Tony actually wanted him.

It was almost too much to bear.

Suddenly _this Tony_ had become _his Tony_ and every fantasy he'd had about the other man rushed desperately into his mind. Dropping to his knees in the workshop, pressing Tony into the couch in the penthouse, waking up in Steve's bed together – it was all suddenly possible.

The next few hours were pure torture. Steve knew he'd be welcome down in the workshop now, but he also knew he'd never be able to keep his hands to himself. Tony needed to do his work and he had no doubt that as soon as he could, he'd be here. Steve turned on the TV, tried to draw, tried to write emails, but eventually just paced around his room, watching the clock tick later and later.

At the sound of Tony's knock Steve dove for the door so fast he nearly tripped, but he finally succeeded in wrenching it open. Tony grinned and opened his mouth to speak, but Steve got there first.

“I changed my mind about dinner,” he choked out and fisted his hand in the front of Tony's shirt, pulling him bodily into the room. The door slammed behind them as Steve drew them clumsily together, lips meeting, hands flitting from place to place, looking for purchase. He knew he was moving wildly, desperately, but he just _needed_ so much and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

Tony pulled back, just a little and Steve couldn't help the whimper that broke his lips. “Shh, shh.” Tony slipped his hands up to rest on either side of Steve's face, fingers caressing his cheeks and soothing the burning heat under his skin. “Are you sure?”

“So sure.” He must have sounded sure because Tony pressed his lips back against Steve, slipping his hands slowly under his shirt and up his sides. His grip was as desperate as Steve felt and before long they staggered their way to Steve's bedroom. As soon as the back of Steve's knees hit the edge of the bed he froze again. Tony didn't back off this time, but he stilled a little, pulling away from the kiss and leaning his forehead against Steve's.

“What's wrong?” he whispered, so uncharacteristically gentle Steve's heart skipped a few beats. Steve didn't say anything and Tony sighed, gently. “You were right before, Steve, we shouldn't skip dinner.”

“But I - “ Steve started.

“A compromise!” Tony declared, loudly, stepping back to give Steve breathing room. “We absolutely should not go to a restaurant as I do not want to be arrested for indecent exposure again,” Steve raised an eyebrow, “so,” Tony marched on hurriedly, “we'll order Chinese takeout and get to know each again, here.”

Steve smiled and Tony sidled up to him, leering. “Chow mein and chatting? Kung pow chicken and cuddling? Fried rice and heavy petting? Maybe fortune cookies and, uh, other things...?” He winked and Steve laughed, feeling instantly more at ease.

“Perfect.”

“JARVIS, do your thing,” Tony called out, shucking off his jacket and heading into Steve's kitchen to look for chopsticks while the AI called in an order.

A few hours later Steve found the two of them sprawled on the floor, an island amongst a sea of Chinese food remains; empty cartons and used chopsticks scattered around. Sadly the fortune cookies hadn't quite survived the “other things” if the sheer quantity of crumbs was anything to go by.

Steve lay on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, clothes mostly discarded and watched Tony. Tony lay on his back, hands tucked behind his head, eyes closed and smiling. He was listening to Steve tell stories of his early life in Brooklyn – stories Howard hadn't known and never would have been able to share with his son.

Steve felt satisfied and sated. There was something wonderful about getting to share his life and hearing more about Tony's. The other man had skirted quite carefully around certain parts of his childhood, but he'd shared a lot about MIT, running SI, meeting Rhodey and Pepper. Now it was Steve's turn and while he talked, he touched Tony, running a finger around the edge of the arc reactor, exploring the wonderful places where his hip bones started, or the inside of his knees. It was all perfect.

He came to the end of his story and Tony flicked an eye open to grin up at him. “I can't decide if Bucky was a bad influence on you or the other way round,” he commented.

“Little bit of both,” Steve assured him.

Tony shifted his arm and Steve noticed a small piece of paper stuck to his bare skin. He peeled it off and held it in the light. It was the fortune from one of the cookies that had been demolished during their own, sweeter, version of dessert.

“What does it say?” Tony asked, noticing Steve's distraction.

“It says you're buying me a helicopter,” Steve informed him, seriously.

“It does not.”

“Yup, does so.”

Tony tried to snatch the fortune out of Steve's hands but he rolled out of the way, holding it out of reach with his long arms and pinning Tony to the carpet with the back of his head pressed against the smaller man's chest.

Tony continued to struggle for freedom, making grabby hands at the little slip of paper. “What do you even need a helicopter for? And then I have to buy you a pilot too? Damn you're an expensive first date.”

“Pretty good one, though.”

“You're alright, I guess,” Tony decided, huffily. Steve turned to glare at him and Tony seized his opportunity to yank away the fortune. “'You will soon receive a gift from a secret admirer,'” he read out loud. “Ha! First of all, it says nothing about it being a helicopter, and, second of all, I am not a secret anymore so therefore it is clearly talking about someone else. I guess you'll just have to wait for your other billionaire secret admirer to hit up Tiffany's. Or the helicopter store.”

Steve just laughed and tucked his face into Tony's chest. “Guess so.”

“Won't work though. You're mine now. He'll have to get in line,” Tony added petulantly, wrapping an arm around Steve's shoulders.

“Yup.” Steve kissed him soundly. “All yours.”

Tony just smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> So this silliness may have been inspired by the wedding video storyline in Love, Actually. Please don't mock me, I have a delicate constitution.
> 
> I love you! Have an awesome day!


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